


Heavy is the head that wears the crown

by thanks_google



Series: Red Right Hand [2]
Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alcohol Withdrawal, Headaches & Migraines, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Season/Series 03, Seizures, Tommy Shelby Needs a Hug, Touch-Starved Tommy Shelby
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:34:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28451712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thanks_google/pseuds/thanks_google
Summary: He’s told the Soviet’s all the information he can remember, so now his focus is breathing, staying in his seat, breathing. Breathe. Breathe. He hears murmuring, between Ada and the men. Then he can feel her eyes on him, worried about him. Makes sense, his brain dripping out of his skull.ORSet between s3ep4 and s3ep5, Tommy trying not to die
Relationships: Ada Shelby & Tommy Shelby, Arthur Shelby & Tommy Shelby, Father John Hughes/Tommy Shelby, Grace Burgess/Tommy Shelby, John Shelby & Tommy Shelby, Polly Gray & Tommy Shelby
Series: Red Right Hand [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2120859
Comments: 13
Kudos: 26





	1. Chapter One

He’s told the Soviet’s all the information he can remember, so now his focus is breathing, staying in his seat, breathing. Breathe. Breathe. He hears murmuring, between Ada and the men. Then he can feel her eyes on him, worried about him. Makes sense, his brain dripping out of his skull. 

Breathe. Breathe.

The pain gets to a point where he cannot breathe anymore, the cocaine wearing off, draining whatever was before left of him. “Ada.” He reaches out to find something that isn’t swaying around him, and it meets Ada’s shaking hands. He’s hunched over and reaches out to her, his head hanging low. Breathe. Breathe. That’s all that matters. He knows he’ll die, but if he can breathe long enough to see Charlie again, perhaps that’d be okay. 

Ada turns to his side, pulling him up with a grunt, and Tommy feels even more light headed than just a moment ago. His hand runs along the banister along the corridor to steady him, Ada holding him up on the other side. As they reach the stairs, his feet somehow drop to the next step every time Ada pulls him forwards, until he can feel them collapsing underneath him, around half way down. 

“Stop, stop.” Hurts to breathe. Hurts to talk, to think. He can’t move. He cannot go any further. His brain is exploding from his skull and he doesn’t know how he is still breathing, just about. It’s a risky move, taking his hand away from the banister to catch Ada’s wrist, make her stop, but he does it nonetheless, and the world spins around him. “Ada, stop.” It makes her stop, if only for a moment, and he is on the floor, legs giving out from under him. 

He thinks it weird how he cannot feel the left side of his body anymore, his left arm limp to the side of him. His eyes are shutting and he has no control over it, and finally, he lets it happen. He can hear Ada’s worried gasps so moves his head to keep him awake. “Drive me to an ‘ospital, Ada.” Breathe. Breathe. He manages to open his eyes, if only momentarily. “If I’m not conscious when I get there, tell them I have a fractured skull, concussion and internal bleeding.” He moves his tongue across his mouth a little too swiftly and his head pulses a little stronger. “I think I may have hemorrhaged.”

“Tommy,” she begins, but there’s no time. If he doesn’t get to a hospital, he’ll never see Charlie again, and he won’t be able to protect him from Father Hughes. 

His eyes slip closed again, unbearing to see Ada’s worry, and the pain of the light overpowers him. After a moment, they open again, only half, and that is the best he can do, considering he cannot see anymore, black sparklers clouding his vision. “Be quick because I can’t see.”

“Okay.” She understands. He knows she does. She may not know why, but she can see him. She can see how much pain he’s in.

“I can’t fucking see.” 

“Okay. Okay.” She stands up and his right hand is left to grasp for something, anything to make him real again, back in the land of the living. He reaches out but is too out of breath to move for much longer, so lets it drop down onto the stairs. 

“Except for you, dad.” Tears choke him and his mouth almost refuses to operate. “I can see you.” Finally, he cannot hold onto anything any longer, he drops. Drops everything. 

Tommy is unconscious by the time she convinces the Soviets to help her get him to her car. One lifts him under the shoulders, the other by his legs, and she holds a cloth onto the side of his head because she has no idea how much blood he’s lost, the bloody idiot. They work swiftly, but carefully considering the injuries he just listed to her. 

They carefully placed her brother in the back of her car. She thanks them with a smile and a gentle nod and they return her with a sympathetic smile. She is in the driver’s seat as fast as she can and she wonders whether it is safe for her to be driving as she blinks through tears. 

As she’s driving, she hears a pained groan from behind her. Quickly, she pulls over to the side of the road and leans over the seats to get a better look at him. 

His face is scrunched up and he looks in so much pain, she wishes she could take it away from him and hopefully, soon they can. When he lets a little tension on his face go, he finally opens his eyes, revealing a glazed, feverish emptiness in them. Through tears, Ada gently brushes the matted hair from his sweating forehead. “It’s okay, Tommy. You’re going to be okay. Just a little further and we’ll be at the hospital.” He chokes on a swallow and she takes that as his attempt to answer. She takes a deep breath, sweeping more hair from his face, before turning back to the steering wheel. 

As she drives, Tommy continues to make pained noises, which worries her. Eventually, they stop altogether, which worries her even more. 

Finally, she arrives at the hospital, where she parks the car as close to the entrance as possible. She leans back where Tommy’s eyes are half lidded, barely focused on her. “Tommy, we’re at the hospital. I’m just going to go get someone to help. I’ll be back in just a moment, I promise.” 

To keep to her promise, Ada runs as fast as she can in her heels through the doors, grabbing the attention of two doctors after she shouts at them for long enough, making sure to emphasise the Shelby name. They follow her back to the car, and help gently guide him out and onto a stretcher. They begin to rush him through the doors and through corridors she doesn’t recognise because he’s never been this bad before. He’s never been into this part of the hospital. She runs alongside them, breathing heavily. 

“Mrs Thorne, we’re taking him into surgery, you have to wait here. I’m sorry to say this, but please say your goodbyes, in case.” The doctor is speaking cautiously, knowing their reputation and what they could do to him. 

“Tommy, it’s okay. I’ll call everyone, make sure Charlie’s safe. They’re going to give you the best of care, I’ll make sure of it. Just hang in there, for me, for Charlie.” She considers what she’s about to say for a moment before deciding on it. “Grace would want you to, for Charlie.” She grasps hold of his hand and squeezes it twice to let him know she loves him. It’s almost unnoticeable, but he presses the slightest pressure back on it. She takes that as acknowledgement that he will do what he can. 

One doctor rushes him away and the other stays with her. He guides her to a seat and sits next to her, too. “As you have said, he has a fracture of the skull, concussion and some internal bleeding. The trauma caused a haemorrhage in his brain. There is a bleed on his brain which we think caused him to have a stroke. We’re taking him into surgery now and hoping to take the pressure off the brain and then we will deal with his other injuries. There is a chance he may not make it through surgery, as it is dangerous. Due to his injuries, there is also a chance he will not make it through recovery, for which I am sorry. You mentioned he has family?”

“Yes, he’s my brother. We have lots of family.”

“In a situation such as this I would recommend you call them and have them come up. Once he is stabilised, we hope you will be able to see him.”

She has to calm down her breathing for at least ten minutes before she can call anyone. She finally musters the courage to call Polly. As soon as Polly asks if everything is okay, she bursts into tears, adrenaline wearing off. 

“Ada, calm down. You have to calm down. What’s happened?” She can always count on Polly to be calm. 

“I- It’s Tommy.”

“What about- What happened, Ada?”

“He was attacked; he had a stroke. They’re taking him into surgery but they- they don’t know if he’ll survive.”

“Jesus- What hospital?”

“R- Royal London Hospital. Can- Can you call everyone, please? The doctor said to call everyone to come because they don’t know how long he has.”

“I’ll call everyone, Ada. Stay there, don’t leave him, okay? I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“M- Make sure Charlie’s looked after. Take him to Charlie and Curly, or Johnny. He has to be with kin. Tommy doesn’t think he’s safe.” She can feel her breathing picking up again. 

“Ada, calm down. What’s done is done. I will call everyone, we will be on our way to the hospital. I will pick up Charles and take him to Charlie’s Yard on the way. I will be there as soon as I can, but it will be a while to drive to London, okay?” She can’t answer, her mouth cannot form words. “Okay, Ada?”

“Okay.” The phone line drops as Polly has ended the call. Ada puts the phone back and takes a deep breath, placing her hand on the wall. She makes her way back to the waiting room, and waits. And waits. And waits. 

Finally, there’s a hand on her shoulder and it makes her jump. It’s Polly. Her eyes are red but she’s calm. “How is he?”

“I don’t know. He’s still in surgery. He’s- Oh God, Pol, he looked so bad. He could barely breathe in the end.”

“Did he say what happened?”

“No. He called this morning and told me to get a meeting with someone from the Soviet Embassy. He sounded a little weird but I was sure he was okay. I helped him up the stairs to the meeting and when I helped him back down he couldn’t make it. I drove him over here because I knew an ambulance wouldn’t get here in time. Fuck, Pol, I was so scared. He looked scared, in so much pain. I’ve never seen him like that.” 

“We’ll figure it out, Ada. If he survives, we will help him just like we did after Grace. I know that man. Mental, physical, there’s hardly a difference. It’ll be just the same. We’ll look after Charlie until he can, and then the stubborn bastard will want to carry on with Russian business, I’m sure. I called everyone, they are on their way. It’ll be okay, Ada. We’ll sort it out.” 

Polly does something she hasn’t done since Ada was little, held her hand. She accepts it gratefully, until a doctor comes and addresses them. 

“Mrs Thorne, Mrs Gray. Mr Shelby is out of surgery and we have attended to his other injuries. The surgery was a success and relieved the pressure on the brain. He is stable but not past danger. You may see him, but he is unconscious.” Polly and Ada both instantly stood up. “I’m afraid he can only have one at a time. It is for his sake; we do not yet know the extent of his injuries and how light and sound may affect him.”

“Ada, you’ve had a long night. I’ll go. Wait out here for your brothers to come. I’ll be out in a little while.” Reluctantly, Ada nods and sits back down. Polly follows the doctor to a dark room. 

“His appearance may seem a little alarming. The cage around his head is for his fractured skull, to prevent him from moving it. Try to keep your voice down and whisper; he’s not responding particularly well to sound.”

“Thank you, sir.” Polly gives him an appreciative smile and steps into the room. She’s aware of how loud her heels are against the tile flooring, so tries to reduce it as much as possible. There’s a chair next to the bed, which she finds herself sitting down on. 

She looks at her nephew, having to take a deep breath when the sight shocks her. He’s a mess. There’s a cage around his head, holding it firmly in place. There’s sweat matted all over his face, mouth slightly open. A chunk of hair is missing from his head and in place is a large gash which she guesses is from the surgery, tied up with stitches. The skin around his eyes are darker than they’ve ever been. 

“Hey, Thomas,” Polly whispers, gently stroking Tommy’s hand. “What have you gotten yourself into?” She asks but doesn’t expect an answer. “I don’t know if you can hear me, but if you can, I am so proud of you, for everything you’ve done for this family. But you need to rest now, and get better. We’re going to look after you. You’re going to be okay.” After considering it for a moment, she takes his hand in hers and squeezes it so gently. 

She sits there for a while, watching. She doesn’t know if she’s waiting for him to wake up, but if she is then she’s out of luck. After what she deems long enough, she stands up silently. “Goodbye, Thomas,” she whispers, then retreats as quiet as she can back to the door. 

When Polly returns to the waiting room, Michael, John, Arthur and Finn are waiting with Ada. “How is he?” Ada asks as soon as she’s in sight.

“You’re right, Ada. It’s very bad. But… I can feel it in the air. Thomas will be okay,” she assures them. 

“What happened?” Arthur asks, a dollop of anger in his voice. 

That’s where it hits Polly. He was going to kill the priest today and… only she knew about it. Unless he slipped something… she told them in confession. Oh God, it’s her fault. She has to lie or her own family will never forgive her. “It was the priest. He… he was going to kill him today. It must have gone wrong.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” John spits at her. 

“I don’t know, John. But I suggest you sort out that tone before you see him as he winced at the sound of my heels on the floor. So you shouting isn’t going to help anything.” She can see John take a deep breath and the anger releases from him, but he would never admit to it. “Good. Thank you.” 

“Is he awake?” Michael asks, remaining calm, probably for Ada’s sake. 

“No, he’s unconscious. If and when he wakes up, we need to look after him, no matter how much he doesn’t want us to, after all he’s done for his family. I don’t know how hard this is going to be, or how much pain he is going to be in. So whatever thoughts you had on your way here, that is what is going to happen. Do you understand me?”

All family members nod and murmur quiet ‘yes's. Polly turns to Ada. “Would you like to go see him?” Ada nods through tears. “Be quiet as possible, whisper and then come back out. Tell the doctors and then us if anything happens.” Ada nods and stands up. 

**********

This is how it continues for the next week and a half, nothing much changing. Ada walked in one morning to find his lower body curled to his chest in pain. She ran to the doctors and they increased his dose of morphine. By the time he started to show signs of consciousness, the number of people at the hospital at any given time was one or two. Everyone was staying at Ada’s house, the only of theirs in London. It meant they were all close by in case anything changed. 

After that time, things begin to happen. His fingers curled around Ada’s hand. His eyes moved around his eyelids in front of Arthur. His face twitched at Polly’s presence. 

One and a half weeks in, while Ada is sitting with him, his eyelids flutter and half open. His eyes scare at the slightest of light from the door and his eyes shut again, but he isn’t unconscious or sleeping anymore. Carefully and as silently as possible, she stands up so that he can see her without moving his head, which he still cannot due to the brace surrounding him. 

“Tommy?” she whispers. “Hey, you’re okay. I’m just going to get a doctor.” They’d been instructed to take off their shoes before entering his room to minimise sound, so she doesn’t worry about running from the room to grab a doctor. 

By the time she enters the room with a doctor, Tommy is making pained groans and sounds. She rushes to his side and takes hold of his hand while the doctor fiddles around with him, checking his vitals and doing seemingly nothing for the pain he is quite obviously in. Finally, he leans over to a trolley and injects him with what she assumes is pain relief. 

When Tommy evidently falls back asleep, Ada exits the room, pulling the doctor after her. “Tell me. What’s going on?”

“He’s stable, but understandably in a lot of pain. Because of the morphine his sleeping will make up a lot of the next few days. Only then will we be able to discuss rehabilitation from the stroke.”

“When can he get the head brace on?” 

“We’re thinking one or two months, depending on his progress. I’m sure you’d like to let your family know his progress? 

“Yes, I’ll go call them now.” She does so, calls her house and tells them to come down to the hospital. She returns back to his side in the room, holding his hand while he tries to take deep breaths.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some of Arthur's perspective while Tommy's in hospital, recovery progress (slight, but there), Arthur's heated conversation with Michael about business, and Tommy's strange dreams and hallucinations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As requested, I have some of Arthur's POV as well as Tommy hearing from Grace

Arthur is sitting in Ada’s living room, reading a newspaper when he hears the phone ring. He spares a glance at the other members of the family, all of whom have fallen asleep, understandably; they’ve all been sleeping strange hours and too little recently. 

He stands up, overcome by a wave of dizziness for which he blames the whiskey he’d drank earlier. More steadily than before, he walks to Ada’s office, thinking about what she could be saying. Tommy could have woken up, but he also could have taken a turn for the worse, he could be dead.

Arthur feels tears welling up in his eyes, so he shuts them momentarily and feels them fall down his cheeks. When he finally reopens them, they connect with the phone which luckily is still ringing and he notices Ada will hang up the phone if he doesn’t answer soon, so hurries up and takes the phone in his hand. 

“Ada?” he asks, but knows it’s her. 

“Yes, Arthur.” She recognises his voice. They seem to all know each other by their phone voices now, since having to call over and over after any changes has become a normality. “You- You need to come to the hospital.”

“What’s happened? Is he okay? Has something happened?” He can feel his voice shaking, can feel the worry in it. But Ada’s voice, he notices, doesn’t have that same worry, where usually it does. 

“Arthur, calm down. He’s okay. He’s woken up. The doctor said-”

“Wait, he’s woken up?” A wave of relief floods him as he realises the possibility of Tommy living to see Charlie and the outside world again is most likely higher than it was before. 

“Yes, Arthur. Tell everyone to come to the hospital now. He’s asleep now but not unconscious anymore. The doctor says he’ll wake up again at any moment.”

“Will- Will he be okay?”

“I don’t know, Arthur. I’m not a fucking doctor.” She’s tired, is what he tells himself. Better than thinking that the second strongest member of the family is cracking. Considering he’s heard Polly (the strongest) crying in the spare room when she thinks no one is listening. “Just- I’m sorry, just come, please. I don’t want him to think I’m the only one there for him when he wakes up again.”

“Yes, I’ll- I’ll go wake them up now and we’ll come, yeah?” 

“Yes, and Arthur?”

“Yes?”

“Keep it together, okay? It’s not going to help him if you’re crying.” He goes to reply, but the line goes flat, and he stands frozen with the phone still at his ear and mouth. 

“Keep it together,” he repeats to himself as the phone lies forgotten on the table and he rushes to the living room. He begins to shake awake members of the family, telling them to wake up. When they all begin to stir, he is already putting on his coat and hat. 

“What the fuck, Arthur?” he hears John ask, but tears are welling up in his eyes and his vision blurs. 

“Tommy’s awake,” he rushes as he pulls his flat cap onto his head. “Ada just called. He woke up.” He looks around and sees everyone’s shocked faces. After they spend a moment processing the information, they all jump to their feet, joining Arthur in getting ready. 

“What did she say?” Polly asks calmly when she notices Arthur’s thoughts are catching up with him. 

“He woke up. He’s asleep now but not unconscious. The doctor said for us to come.”

“Is Ada okay?” Michael asks. 

“I think so. She seemed a little flustered but I guess it can be expected,” he replies, giving information to the best of his ability, though his knowledge is limited considering it comes from one short phone call. 

Polly drives one car, Michael driving the other. Arthur offers but Polly notes his intoxication and refuses to let him drive. By the time they get to the hospital, they are all silent with worry and driving well above speed limits. Their parking is questionable and they run through the doors. Ada is nowhere to be seen, but they guess she is with Tommy, so he isn’t alone. They run through corridors and stand outside his room, meeting with the doctor who has been looking after him this time. 

“He’s awake right now, but Mrs Thorne is with him. If you could wait out here until she comes out, I’m sure he’d like to see you,” the doctor assures with a sympathetic and hopeful smile on his face. 

“Do you have any better knowledge of how he’s going to be?” Polly asks. 

“The odds are now in his favour, but that doesn’t mean he is past danger. We are now hopeful he will make a full recovery from all his injuries.”

“Can we bring his son to see him?” John asks, and Arthur cannot ignore the sheer fear in his voice. 

“I think it may be too risky at the moment, but I think that would be good for his recovery as soon as it is safe.”

“Thank you, doctor.” He gives that same sympathetic smile again and walks away, clipboard in hand. Arthur takes a deep breath, resisting the urge to smash his hand into the wall. 

“Arthur,” Polly begins, noticing his anger. “You heard what the doctor said. This is a good thing.”

“I just-” He thinks about his next words. His voice is angry, but after a deep breath he manages to calm it. “I just want to kill whoever did it.”

“Yes, Arthur,” Michael’s voice continues to keep with the calm tone of everyone else. “But we don’t know who did it, so we can’t kill them until we either find out, or Tommy tells us.” 

John continues, “And we have bigger priorities right about now, Arthur. Namely our brother being in a hospital bed. We will get them and we will get revenge, but Tommy’s health is more important.”

After a moment of tense silence, the door to Tommy’s room opens and Ada exits, tears in her eyes, refusing to let go of her pupils.

“How is he?” Polly asks. 

“He’s awake, but the doctor told me you were outside, so I’ll let you see him. You have to be quiet as a mouse, he’s getting migraines from anything loud,” Ada explains.

Arthur instantly replies, “I’ll go, if that’s okay.” Everyone nods, and he takes his shoes off, as they always do, and walks into the room. 

Somehow it is even darker in the room than before, cold and lifeless. He silently moves to the chair next to the bed, but doesn’t sit in it, instead standing above it so Tommy can see him, or his reflection, at least. 

Tommy’s eyes are open, just a sliver, and Arthur can barely see the blue in them, only the slightest part showing. They don’t look the ocean blue they normally do, the one that gives him credibility and trust, gets him out of all trouble and into even more. They look more grey, pained. 

He begins to whisper, “Hey, Tommy. It’s me… Arthur. I know you’re in a lot of pain, but please, hang in there, for Charlie if not anyone else. I’m… I’m so sorry this happened, Tom. I say this every day but now you might be able to hear me, so it’s worth repeating myself. We are all here, and we are all going to help you, and then we are going to murder the people responsible for all this, take their eyes. It’ll be okay, Tom. It has to be okay.” 

After a moment of just standing, looking into his brother’s eyes, wondering if he even knows he’s there, he shuts his eyes momentarily, before turning around and leaving the room. 

The next few hours go past in a bit of a blur. People going in and out of the room, Tommy falling asleep and waking up, making pained sounds that don’t really sound like words. The most coherent thing he says is something that sounded painfully close to “Grace”, which doesn’t settle Arthur’s nerves at all. The doctor says it shouldn’t be anything to worry about, considering all the drugs he’s on, it wouldn’t be unheard of for him to be calling for his dead fucking wife. 

He’s sitting in the waiting room with Michael, the only person who hasn’t been in to see Tommy since coming today, tonight, whatever time it is, he’s not sure. He seems strangely unbothered by his cousin being half dead in the next room. 

“Arthur, I know you aren’t going to like what I’m going to say,” Michael begins after a long time of silence. “We need someone to look after business while he’s here, because I looked at the books and it’s not going well.” 

“Your cousin is possibly dying and you’re worried about fucking business?!” he shouts. 

“Arthur, calm down. It’s something we need to discuss. You and John aren’t in a mental position, understandably, to run business at the moment. Ada’s set on being prominent in Tommy's recovery. Mum’s determined to help her with that. That leaves me, who can take on the work until Tommy returns.”

“And what then, you’ll just hand it back to him without question?”

“Yes, Arthur. I know you don’t take a shine to me too often but I’m not taking advantage of my cousin being in hospital to take over the company.”

“It seems to me like that’s what you’re doing.” He feels the spite in his voice and adds to it as much as he can.

“I don’t want that, Arthur. If I take over this company, it will be fair and square, when the current leader isn’t rotting away somewhere. This is only temporary, because hopefully Tommy will be back on his feet soon enough for me to step back and we will continue as we were before. Yes, I am interested in the business, but I am not evil.”

“Then why are we discussing business right outside the room my brother is clinging to life in? Is it our priority?”

“Yes, Arthur. The world keeps turning, life goes on. I will not talk to you about business again until you are ready, but I am letting you know now that it will be taken care of because we need Tommy to come home, yes. But it’ll be no use if he doesn’t have a home to come back to. Do you understand me?” 

This is the most forefront Michael has been with Arthur since the argument after the separate meetings with Tommy after Grace died. It doesn’t worry him, a kid trying to be like him, but it does make him slightly proud at how far the posh bastard from the pasture has come. As Tommy always says, you don’t parley when you’re on the backfoot, so he simply nods to Michael and walks away, hoping he understands his answer from the look in his eyes. 

Tommy swims about in the depths of consciousness, dragged and pulled to the top every now and then. Sometimes the pain keeps him awake, sometimes, when it’s almost bearable, he can sleep. Other times he falls under without permission, exhaustion pulling him back under. 

_”You can let go, Thomas. It’s so easy. Just one little push and all the pain will be gone and you can be with me forever.” Her smile is like it always was._

_“Grace?” Tommy murmurs and wonders dutifully whether he’s spoken out loud or just in his dream._

_“Yes, Thomas. It’s me, it’s Grace. Charlie isn’t going to want to see you like this. He’s got the others to look after him, so many people to look after him if you just let go. He doesn’t want to see his dad like this, some vegetable. It’ll be best for everyone if you don’t hang on much longer.” There’s blood pouring from her chest against which she holds the sapphire, the one that killed her, the one that killed whatever was left of the version of him from before France._

_“Can’t ‘eave ‘m wit- n… p’rents, Grace.”_

There’s a cold pressure on his hand, which confuses him. Where’s Grace? She’s gone now but he doesn’t know why. He tries to focus on that as well as attempting to open his eyes. Finally after much effort, he manages what he hopes is enough to make someone see he is awake. 

Polly, it’s Polly. She’s holding his hand, that’s what the weight is. He tries to look up at her which sends a shock wave of pain through his head, so he stops. She smiles sympathetically over him. 

“Tommy, I don’t know what Grace is telling you to do,” she whispers to him and he focuses on the movement of her mouth to try to understand the words and put them together so they make sense. “Whether it’s her being with you or you imagining her, you cannot leave Charlie. He needs you or he won’t have any parents and we can only do so much, Thomas. Hang in there, please. We’re all waiting for you. Come back when you’re ready.” There are slight footsteps on the ground and her shadow moves further away. He shuts his eyes as he anticipates the door being about to open and keeps them closed.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy's recovery makes progress, and then a setback

Four weeks later, the cage is removed from his head, giving him a little more freedom. He can sit up, with a collection of pillows stuffed behind him. It also meant with two people helping him, at least, he could have his legs over the side of the bed, meaning he could take a piss. While he still has the humiliation of having to go to the toilet joined by more people than he’d care to admit, he still considers it better than the catheter he had before. 

It’s a big risk, but his doctors finally let Charlie come to see him. Tommy has the constant worry that Father Hughes has taken Charlie. While he doesn’t remember r much at all about that following day, everyone seems to be worried because apparently, he told Mary to never let Charlie alone. 

Tommy is sitting up in his bed, a mountain of pillows stacked behind him when Ada and Polly enter with his son. He knows he’s a sorry sight, hasn’t eaten any substantial meals since coming into hospital. And, to be honest, it’d been a while before then, too. He’s lost a lot of weight, but his family has watched it happen gradually, adjusted to it. No matter how much he heard Polly and Ada try to talk to Charlie about what his dad will look like outside the hospital room, nothing can prepare Charles for what he sees. And Tommy knows it’s bad, but he hasn’t seen himself in a while, and he notices how people always flinch slightly when they come into the room, even if they try to hide it. He’s okay with flinching, he just cannot deal with the sympathy. 

Charlie’s eyes go wide when the door opens, and both Ada and Polly’s eyes go wide, worried about what he’s going to do next. Unfortunately, their worried glances don’t stop Charlie from screaming and crying at the sight and state of his father. Polly’s hand jumps to his mouth to stop it, or at least muffle it so it’s a little easier for Tommy to deal with, but it’s too late. Tommy’s face is scrunched up in pain and his grip around the sheet under him. He’s trying to take deep breaths through the pain but it isn’t working. His head rolls back against the pillows and he tries to hold back the agonized groans so Charlie doesn’t have any more eyesore. 

Ada quickly leans down, scooping Charlie in her hands and leaving the room. “Get a doctor,” Polly whispers to her niece just before she leaves, and then rushes to Tommy’s side, holding his hand and wiping sweaty hair from his forehead. She doesn’t dare say anything in case she makes it worse, instead just occasionally wiping tears from her face while she waits impatiently for a doctor, or at the least, a nurse. 

Finally, the door opens, and a nurse enters, holding a tray in her hands. It contains morphine and a needle, which she sets on his bedside table, before setting it up. “Just a little scratch,” she whispers and Tommy even manages a scoff. In all the pain he’s in right now, it doesn’t matter to him. He’s had so many injections as of recent weeks that he hardly notices it anymore. Just anything to stop the pain. After a moment where Tommy thinks it isn’t working, that the pain simply won’t stop, things begin to relax. Everything floats around him until he’s sinking into the bed. He doesn’t stop sinking until he finally passes out and falls into a deep sleep.

Ada calls the family from the phone they’ve placed just outside Tommy’s room, where they’ve also placed some chairs, as most of the time, they’re waiting impatiently around for him to wake up. Charlie is sitting in one of the said chairs, crying, more quietly now, confused and scared. Ada understands, of course. It took them all a while to adjust to his new, very different appearance. It got much better when the cage came off his head, but he’s still only having fluids through a straw. Anything else is too much. 

“Pick up the fu- John? Hello? It’s Ada.”

“How did it go, is he okay?” It was a long time coming, bringing Charlie to see Tommy, and they were hoping everything would go swimmingly, that Charlie would learn to remain quiet. 

“Not good. He started screaming as soon as he went in. They’re giving Tom morphine now so that’s set us back by quite a few days.”

“Fuck… do you want us to come down?”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll speak to Pol but I need some sleep so I’ll bring Charlie back home and stay for a little while.” Since they’ve been sleeping at Ada’s, Charlie has been staying with them. Karl is there already and quite likes to look after his cousin when he can. Esme took the opportunity to take the children traveling to see their heritage while John’s not with them. They visit sometimes, every week or two. “Make some tea or get one of the maids to, I’ve got a headache.” She hangs up, not wishing to engage in pleasantries. 

She takes a deep breath and kneels in front of Charlie. “I’m sorry, Charlie. I’m sure it was too soon. We just wanted him to see you and you to see him because it’s been a while and he was worried about you, but we’ll have to sort out another way of doing it that’s going to work better, yeah?” Charlie nods and Ada smiles, fake, of course, but she hopes reassuring. 

The door to Tommy’s room opens and Polly exits. Ada pulls her away from Charlie so he doesn’t overhear. “How is he?”

“They’ve given him a strong dose of morphine so he’s sleeping, will be for a while. It’ll stop the pain for now but they said he’ll likely have another migraine when he wakes up. Short term solution for a long term problem.”

Ada takes a deep breath. “If you’re okay to stay for a bit, I’m going to take Charlie home and get some sleep.”

“Yes, that’s fine, you’ve been here quite some time. Is Charlie okay?”

“He wasn’t expecting it. There’s only so much you can prepare a little boy for something like that.” She pauses, takes another deep breath. “I’ll take him home, get John to read him a bedtime story. He’s got good at them.”

“Tommy always used to read you and Finn bedtime stories, before France, long before. He used to do it to John, too, but he was only little himself then. Used to do impressions, like your grandad did.”

“I miss him.”

“So do I, Ada. So do I.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I hope you like this chapter!   
> I've been going through a thing where I swear I've read every fanfic in this fandom, so if you have any really good ones, please do my mental state a favour and put it in the comments. I've been trying to find some about Tommy and the others DURING the war, because there's a possibility I've read them all, good and bad. 
> 
> I'm also not one to self-promote but I have another Peaky blinders fanfic that if you like this one, you might like. It's inspired by Speechless, another fanfic set after the war in which Tommy loses his voice to brain damage in France. In mine, a similar thing happens, so if you're interested give that a read. 
> 
> Thanks!


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The continued road to getting better, some progress is actually made

Tommy swims for hours in a pool of morphine and unconscious thought. Well, thought could be an exaggeration; the sheer lack of pain, lack of much feeling at all, takes away both pain in his head, and the unmoving agony of his own guilt. 

When his head finally breaks the water, Tommy feels a presence in the room. John’s presence, he learns when he pries his eyes open and lolls his head to the side to meet his brother’s eyes. 

“Heya, Tom,” John whispers and Tommy forces the tips of his fingers at the end of his right arm and hand to lift from the mattress in acknowledgment. He was making so much progress, but now the morphine melts body parts into the other. “They said they’re hoping to start lowering your dosage, so things might get a little clearer soon.”

Tommy still can’t put his brain through the stress of even trying to talk at this level of morphine, let alone the vast majority of the left side of his body still making slow, very slow steps in the right direction. He lifts his right index finger and right middle finger and signals a walking motion. “Not sure yet. They’re not sure how soon you’re body will recover after the… um… the stroke.” John sniffles, quite clearly still not accepting of the fact his older brother had a stroke. “How’s your… um… how’s your head?” John fiddles awkwardly with his hands on his lap, while Tommy’s own hands hang limp beside him on the bed. John realises he asked an open-ended question and John begins to talk about the kids, Esme, allsorts, go on and on, and honestly? Tommy’s a little appreciative. He speaks at a low volume, for which Tommy is also grateful. Finally, he finds his head full of helium as he dunks his head back under the thick pool of morphine. 

The next time he wakes up, Tommy’s head is a little clearer. The morphine has worn off a little but the migraine is gone so the pain is just a little more bearable. Arthur is sat in the chair next to him, but his head is leaned back and he is snoring, luckily the snores are fairly quiet. He looks at him, for a little while, as long as he can before his brain forces his brother into a foggy mess, forcing Tommy himself to look away. 

After a moment of trying to make his eyes work in the way he wants, the door opens slightly and Tommy closes his eyes against the light. The light footsteps come closer until there’s a smiling face of his nurse, the one that the family assigned to him for the sake of having as few people as possible know about it. Nurse Bernadette. She’s been kind to him for as long as he’s been awake to see it. She looks tired; Tommy guesses Polly’s worried violence contributes to her long hours and the dark bags under her eyes. 

“Do you want to sit up?” The nurse asks, and the right corner of his lips turns up in affirmation. Gently, carefully, very very slowly, Nurse Bernadette pulls Tommy up from under his armpits. Luckily, the past few days, Tommy’s been just about able to hold his head up for just long enough for Bernadette to place the pillows behind him, which she does. Tommy leans back into the pillows behind him and relaxes, taking a deep breath. “Your sister is outside, would you like me to send her in?” His lip curls up again. Bernadette smiles widely and nods. “Great, I’ll get her now.” Footsteps recede, Tommy shuts his eyes against the light, and the light comes and disappears. He keeps his eyes shut as the door opens again, the light comes and disappears, and footsteps come closer. A slight movement on the chair and Ada is sat next to Tommy. 

“Hey, Tom.” Tommy turns his eyes to hers and tries to focus on them, squinting, “I’m sorry about Charlie. It’s just… I’m sure you know, he was just shocked, is all. You’ve lost a lot of weight and don’t look too well. I don’t think we should have done it in the first place; I thought he’s too young to see something like this. But, you kept insisting and Polly said it’d be good for both of you. The doctors really didn’t want it to happen, recommended strongly against it. But, we have our… reputation, so they had to agree. Reputation didn’t stop Charlie from screaming, though, it seems. I’m sorry, Tommy. We should have left it longer.” She’s whispering and there are tears down her face. 

Another week passes, the left side of his body begins to strengthen much more with some guided exercises, and Arthur, Ada and Nurse Bernadette are in the hospital room to help Tommy stand up. Arthur is supporting his left side, the nurse to his right. They have their hands holding his forearms with an abnormal amount of force as Tommy sits on the side of the hospital bed. Ada is hovering in front of the three of them, ready to move if anything happens.

“Are you ready?” Bernadette asks. 

“Yes,” Tommy mumbles. He squeezes his eyes shut and his face curls into a scrunch as he puts all the effort he possibly can to stand up. To his genuine surprise, he finds that it works. He holds harder onto Arthur and the nurse than he’d care to admit, but he’s standing, for the first time in a long time. 

“Yes, Tommy. Well done!” After an excited and slightly loud ‘yes’, Tommy scrunches his face. Ada realises her mistake and finishes the sentence quieter. It’s strange, to have such congratulations for something so simple as standing up. No one has done that since he was shot in the lower back in France, and it took him a while to stand up again, walk again. Not as long as this, not nearly as long as this. 

Tommy’s legs wobble a little at first, but they begin to settle under his weight, finally taking it as he slowly eases his reliance on Arthur and the nurse. “You okay on your own?” Nurse Bernadette asks, and Tommy manages another grumbled ‘yes’. Slowly, very slowly, they release their grip entirely. 

Tommy takes a deep breath, and he could almost swear that the view of Grace in the corner of his vision, that almost looks like a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I'm not a doctor or nurse, I'd like to point out, so if there's anything medically inaccurate, please let me know. I've done a lot of research and am trying to make it as accurate as possible. I do history GCSE in which medicine is one of my topics, so I do know a lot about how hospitals worked in this time period and what treatments for certain things were. I've made the decision not to introduce an infection because that would mean Tommy would probably die. I don't mean to bore you with history but Germ Theory (that proved how infection spreads and why) by Louis Pasteur was already out; however, the first antibiotic (penicillin) was not discovered until 1928, and not used mainstream until the start of the Second World War by Florey and Chain in America. I'm really sorry for boring you but you know, doesn't hurt
> 
> If you have any suggestions, please comment, I love to try other things


	5. Chapter Five

It’s a bad day. At the moment, most days are bad days, lucky to have one or two good ones a week. He is progressing, slowly. The good days are getting better, and so are the bad ones. On good days, he can remain standing without passing out, he can take a step or two, still relying on people physically holding him up to move. He can’t yet stand on his own but can remain standing on his own. 

Today though is particularly bad. He spends half the time vomiting, the other half in some half-unconscious state, eyes still half-open, murmuring complete nonsense. Surprisingly, it’s an improvement. They can’t give him any more morphine and he still can’t keep down any solids, so there isn’t the possibility of more painkillers, and those still left him his system have been vomited, meaning he’s in a hell lot of pain, making him even sicker. The vicious cycle will last until he can have his next dose of morphine, Ada clutching his hand and rubbing circles into his back when he leans over the side of the bed into the chamber pot; using her fingers to brush sweaty curls away from his forehead when he leans back in his chair and scrunches his face up in pain; sits back in worry when he passes out from the pain. 

“A- Ad… ughhh…” He forces out two letters but does not finish as it causes him too much pain, instead deciding to groan loudly. He’s still leaning over the bed, pot between the chair Ada is sitting in and the bed he is only on by his legs, the rest of him hanging off, Ada holding it up by one hand. It’s become easier and easier since he’s lost more and more weight since being here, and it has become apparent for the first time that Tommy’s never eaten properly, but since France, he’s eaten less. Since everything, especially since Grace died, she hasn’t seen him eat food at all. It hardly looks like he’s eaten anything, either. She mentally punches herself every day since for never noticing it. 

“It’s okay, Tommy. It’s okay.” He’s not vomiting anymore but hasn’t made an effort to move back onto the bed. It’s not okay, she knows it, he knows it. She’s not sure why she says it, probably to reassure herself, despite the fact it isn’t working. It’s certainly not reassuring him. Perhaps she’s simply throwing it out to the room. 

Over the next week, Tommy’s condition improves drastically, as hoped by the doctor. Nurse Bernadette is finally able to take a little time off, coming in a couple of hours a day to check on him, so he has a more familiar face in the nurses since she’s one of the only nurses he’s taken a shine to and will take morphine from, so she comes in most times he needs his morphine, filling her time in between with sleep. Her job is to nurse him back to health, Mrs Gray makes sure to remind her of it every fucking day. 

Tommy’s able to sit up on his own, which he’s infinitely happy about because it means he can use the ‘toilet’ also known as a chamber pot, on his own. Tommy’s happy because it means he can have some fucking dignity restored. 

One of the doctors is helping him stand up, now only needing a hand to manage it, which he uses with gratefulness. Polly told him earlier that Michael’s coming in, to talk business. To talk about the priest.

When he does come, Tommy isn’t exactly sure half the things he says, a blur in the morphine, and he can’t tell whether it’s that or himself talking. Either way, words are said about the priest and Michael leaves, leaving Tommy standing in the middle of his room, cigarette in one hand and bottle of morphine in the other. Nurse Bernadette is lingering at the door with who from the outline looks like Polly. 

It doesn’t occur to Tommy yet that he’s actually feeling a little dizzy and should probably sit down. He doesn’t feel himself beginning to sway on his feet, nor does he notice his legs losing their strength. Luckily, it seems he hasn’t been answering questions from the nurse and Pol, so in a moment they are standing in front of him. Their faces are blurry so he pinches his eyebrows and blinks hard to make them clearer, but it doesn’t work, so the next time he blinks, they stay closed. 

For the first time in weeks, Tommy wakes up to a hard surface under him. There’s a soft cushioning under his head which he assumes is a pillow, and he can see the ceiling from a different part of the room than usual. He’s not entirely sure what’s happened but there are two worrying faces above him when he opens his eyes. Thankfully, they’re a little clearer than they were before. 

“Can you hear me, Mr Shelby?” Of course, he fucking can. What sort of a question is that? 

“Thomas?” Polly’s voice is laced with worry and he does not hesitate to scrunch his eyebrows together in confusion. Has he… passed out? 

“Mhm…” Tommy mumbles in a reply. He hopes that is enough to reassure them that he is, in fact, okay. 

“Stay still, we don’t know if anything has happened, Mr Shelby,” the nurse begins. “I’m just going to get the doctor.” There are footsteps receding and then nothing.

Polly’s in his field of vision, eyebrows knitted together in worry. “Is it hurting, Thomas?” Now she mentions it, yeah, feels like someone’s fucking stabbing him in the side of his head. He guesses the grimace on his face gives her all the answers she needs. She brushes her hand through his hair and her eyes go wide when she pulls back. It takes him a moment to look at her hand because he’s staring at her worried face that he’s not used to, When he does look, her fingers are stained red like one of the nurses from France, one of the many that didn’t speak a word of English but had the most beautiful red hair and eyes. 

Polly’s looking at the blood on her fingers, a speckle of fear on her face, before she pushes it back, curling her hand back into his hair, pushing it away from his face. After a short moment, there are footsteps coming closer. There’s murmuring but it sounds far away, and then Polly’s back in his field of vision. “Thomas, they’re taking you into surgery; they think one of your blood vessels has burst. It’s okay, just close your eyes and I’ll see you in a little while.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, hope you are enjoying this! I have quite a few fanfics I'm writing at the moment so it might be a while before I next post, but hopefully not too long! Obviously right now there's a bit of an issue around the world but in England secondary schools are having another two weeks off at the end of the Christmas holidays, so I'll probably have more time to write. If you have any suggestions, please comment!


End file.
